


New ways to fall apart

by willbefirstchoice



Category: I Don't Know How But They Found Me (Band), Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 18:33:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13530153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willbefirstchoice/pseuds/willbefirstchoice
Summary: Jfjsjjdhs!!! My first story ever,,,, wowie





	New ways to fall apart

December 12th, 2011.

It was a cold night, the smell of alcohol lingered everywhere; not surprising as he was in a bar. He doesn't remember why exactly he came, something about Brendon wanting to see a cute barista or something that lead to half his friends smoking in the bathroom, his girlfriend flirting with some dude with sunglasses asking about a scar she has on her shoulder. Dallon was drunk, way too drunk to move but what did he have to lose? Nothing that he could see. 1, 2, 3 shots of whiskey down, the bartender was getting worried, he didn't care (Dallon was too drunk to remember his name anyway.) The younger bartender has many curls and chocolate eyes, or Dallon thinks he did, his visions hazy. The bartender gives the older man a concerning look, the worry all over his face. Dallon brushes it off, 'If I don't get drunk who pays him?' Dallon thought, smirking to himself. The young bartender sighs, taking the shot glass and setting it aside to where Dallon can't reach it. He tries to manage out a complaint but the words are too slurred to make them out so Dallon just accepts defeat.  
The bartender says stuff, Dallon's too drunk to really make out what he's saying, his head is spinning at this point, the other man's voice gets louder, he assumes his yelling. Dallon feels tired, he feels light, everything is slowly going dark and before he knows it he's passed out against the bar table.

Ian swears he doesn't get paid enough for this job, from the drunk women grinding on the bar to the people in the corner making out and basically fucking, he's decided that he cannot wait to go home. Ian sigh and wash a few glasses, the people at the bar already had enough to drink anyway. His co-worker, Spencer, had to leave because of something important with his girlfriend, Linda. Ian was tired, not just physically. He was tired of all the drunk flirts, the number of times he had to call the police in one night, the passed out strippers he had to get rid of when the sun arose. He was tired and he wanted to quit, but it paid the bills, so he stayed.

Ian pushed his mop out of his face, he had got it cut yesterday and ever since it all fell to the front of his face. He didn't mind, it was just a hassle. Ian finished cleaning the shot glasses, and a tall man sat in front of him. He tried to examine the man with little to no luck. Ian saw him walk in earlier, he had a couple friends, and what he presumed to be a girlfriend. The friends went into the bathroom about an hour ago with blunts or cigarettes in their hand, it was too far away to tell. He glanced around the room, the probable girlfriend was currently sitting on the lap of a stranger, both highly intoxicated. He looked back at the man, he could tell he was also tired; bags under his sharp blue eyes and hair shagging in front of his face. His lips were slightly parted and he looked on the verge of sleep. Ian didn't bother with a name, he was just a customer anyway.

The man said something, snapping Ian out of his thoughts and making him look at the man straight in the eyes. "What was that?" Ian said, slightly apologetic but definitely not enough to notice.  
"I said four shots of whiskey." The man said cold and sharp like a dull dagger had been crafted out of the words escaping from his lips. Ian nodded, taken aback by the directness of the man's words. He complied, grabbing the harsh liquor from behind him and four of the clean glasses. He poured the liquid quickly into the man's eyes were getting more harsh and narrow by the second. It was at moments like these he was glad his new haircut fell on his face and that he could easily hide from angry or tired eyes of customers.

Ian gave him the liquid, hoping that it would satisfy him enough to where he wouldn't stare at him as harsh or as cold. Thankfully the man had stopped looking at him altogether and instead was now focused on downing the liquid as fast as possible. Ian sighed softly, already tired from the drunk people in front of him demanding more alcohol, and gave them want they wanted. For now, they were content and Ian could take a small break, he put up the bottles of various alcohols and his margarita shaker. The man from earlier looked at Ian sadly, his eyes gave away that he was desperate, Ian just didn't know for what. He obviously would ask if it was alcohol he wanted and he didn't know what else he could possibly offer.

Hours passed and the man kept getting visibly more drunk with every shot of various alcohol Ian gave him. His eyes had softened, his speech had slurred, his posture worsened and he was visibly less tense. Ian couldn't help but feel bad, his friends most likely passed out in the bathroom and his girlfriend had left with the sunglasses man from earlier. The man was stranded, and behind his cold facade, Ian could see that.

He eventually reached his limit of alcohol and had passed out. Ian kept a close eye on him, trying to make sure nothing bad happened to the man. He didn't know why he cared so much about this stranger, maybe it was because he hadn't been particularly rude nor loud and obnoxious like everyone else at the bar was. Maybe it was the fact that he was so young and that something was obviously saddening him, or maybe it was the fact that Ian was just partial to him cause he was attractive; either way he felt drawn to him and felt he needed to help in some way besides turning him into a young alcoholic.

Ian walked over to him, intending to start a conversation but it was obvious the man was too drunk. He asked if the man wanted a water, all he got was a simple nod. Ian walked over to the glasses and got himself the tallest one and went to the water dispenser used to water down some of the drinks. Ian filled the glass and set it in front of the quiet man. The man smiled weakly and slowly sipped the water, trying not to spill it all over himself in the process.

Ian went back to working and dealt with his share of angry alcoholics and people looking for someone to go home with, at around 3 am he had to get some high people who had passed out all over the bathroom floor. He presumed these were the man's friends and it didn't help that when they walked out he went slightly pale, though that could have been the alcohol. The men got a taxi to the only person who even slightly awoke house and they were rushed out in a hurry. He could've had them arrested had the weed not been medical but he doubted be could get them to show a license and people come in with weed all the time.

It was almost morning and Ian was just begging for the time to speed up. The taller man had finished his water and promptly passed out, face smooshed against the counter. Ian sighed softly and picked up his water cup and cleaned it before putting it away; he looked back at the sleeping man. Ian doubted that he could get the man awake, and he didn't know how much longer he'd be asleep and the bar was about to close. Ian waited until everyone had cleared out and gently shoved him, no reaction. Ian helped him up and proceeded to drag him to his car and put him in the backseat; he couldn't help but wonder if this was illegal. It most likely was. Ian groaned and prayed that he wouldn't be arrested for trying to help this dude he didn't know the name of.

Ian got to his place fairly quickly, as it was 6 am and most people were asleep. He got the man out of the car and fumbled with his keys until he managed to get his apartment door open. He put the man on the couch, pleased about the fact that he didn't have to drag the weight of another man with him. Ian put a blanket on him and went to the kitchen, and grabbed the pill bottle from on top of the fridge. He set it on the table next to the couch along with a bottle of cold water, though it would probably be room temperature by the time he woke up anyway, so Ian doubted that it mattered anyway.

He looked at the man, a sense of calm rushing over him. He looked calm, the sad expression long was gone and in its place had been a blank one. Ian decided to let him rest and would figure out how to explain everything later.

**Author's Note:**

> Jfjsjjdhs!!! My first story ever,,,, wowie


End file.
